My Mothers Arms

I was getting ready to go out and my arms caught my attention in the mirror. I thought to myself...ARRGH I have my Mother's arms!!! Later that night as I fed and rocked my own babies, I thought about my arms again and how I didn't like the way they looked, and then I realized my mistake. I always loved my Mother's arms. Those arms rocked me for many years as a baby and then way beyond the age of when a child should be rocked. My mother ignored any criticism in this area, as she knew that this time would end all too soon. I was her last child at home. Those arms cooked me breakfast every morning before school and helped me with homework at night. Those arms tucked me in at night and held me when my heart was broken. Those arms french braided my hair for homecoming week and drove me to all my social activities and sleepovers. Those arms had strength to bear all the sacrifice and work to raise four daughters and yet were soft enough to be able find comfort and solace within. I hope someday that my children will also come to love my arms as well.